


Humbled Greatness

by Opium_Smoke



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Angst, Canon - Manga, Gen, May contain spoilers, contemplation of death, reflective
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-01
Updated: 2014-12-01
Packaged: 2018-02-27 15:27:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2697923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Opium_Smoke/pseuds/Opium_Smoke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Death is the great leveller. However death is not the same for all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Humbled Greatness

**Author's Note:**

> AN: Inspired from the last few lines of the sixth voyage of Sinbad the sailor: “'This is the King of great dignity, of high authority!' And he continueth to repeat his praises in words I remember not, saying at the end of his panegyric, 'This is the King owning the crown whose like nor Solomon nor the Mihraj ever possessed.' Then he is silent and one behind him proclaimeth, saying, 'He will die! Again I say he will die!'” “The Arabian Nights” translated by Sir Richard Burton,1850.
> 
> I'm not really happy about the length of this work, but everything else I thought I might have actually finished is under a third review. So apologies for this way, way, way too short piece.
> 
> Conception Date: 31/5/2014  
> Completion Date: 16/6/2014
> 
> ATTENTION: I currently have a survey running to get feedback about what readers would like to read more of, as I start planning my publishing schedule for the first half of next year. You guys are extra special since, unlike the fanfiction.net readers, you get to give me more specific requests, so take advantage of it while you can. The survey will run until sometime in December and can be found at https://www.surveymonkey.com/r/8687GML

**Disclaimer** : Kuroshitsuji (Black Butler) © Yana Toboso. No profit is being made from this story. This story does not necessarily reflect the author’s religious views, beliefs or morals.

 

Ciel gazed out the carriage window, his finger marking the point where he had paused in the novel. His finger traced the faded embossed lettering on the worn cover. He spelt out the letters to himself as his finger traced over them.

S-I-N-B-A-D-T-H-E-S-A-I-L-O-R

Be they pauper or king, there were some things that happened to everybody, regardless of their station in life. His single blue eye slid over to where his butler silently sat watching him.

Earl Phantomhive often considered the demonic contract he had entered into to be a blessing rather than a curse. He had gained stolen time, a chance to do something with his life before he died. But perhaps the greatest thing was that he had chosen his death; oh he might not know when his death would occur, but he knew it would not be far off (rats can only keep away from food for so long) and how he would die.

In a way, he had more power than a king, not many could say they had chosen their own death after all. There was so much uncertainty in death after all; if it would be painful or simply a slide into restful sleep, a slowly creeping thing, or a sudden shock, how much time a person had to live, would a person’s death serve a greater cause, what legacy would be left behind, there were so many unknowns. Ciel knew his death would be the payment in a transaction; that it was highly unlikely he would live for more than a decade; he would leave no legacy; and his death would serve to feed another creature.

He would get to intimately know his executioner, be looked after by him, and protected by him until the time came. His lips quirked in a sardonic smile, he lived with his death, knew what it would look like when it came. There would be no “final mystery” for him, and he was fine with that. He opened up the book once more, his eyes skimming the words he had read just moments ago.

He was very much like the king at the end of the sixth voyage. He did wear a metaphorical crown “whose like nor Solomon ever possessed”; he ruled the underground, he was hardly a beacon of justice; and as for “great dignity”… Ciel stifled an ironic laugh. The fact that he had traded his soul for the power to regain his dignity, should be telling enough.

For all his power, whatever “nobility” flowed in his veins, he would die just like the king.

“He will die! Again I say he will die!”         


End file.
